My Second Job

I now saw that as long as I was the 'boy', I would never have much chance of learning real engineering. Setting on another boy was the only solution to my problem, and I had heard nothing to indicate this would happen. I began to think seriously of making a move to something more lucrative, and with better prospects. The opportunity came sooner than I had expected. There was, and still is, a large printing works in Bungay, and I heard they were looking out for youths. There was always keen competition for these vacancies as the money was good and they provided steady employment. After talking it all over with the family I decided to have a go. I was helped a good deal by the vicar at Ellingham, who went and saw the Personnel officer and explained the circumstances. All went well at the interview, and I was promised a start within a month.

I now had the job of telling my present employers, and I wasn't looking forward to that at all. As it happened, I had had a particularly unpleasant time at work the week before, getting one filthy job after another and being frequently sworn at into the bargain. Consequently when Friday night came, I felt good and ready to give in my notice. There were no indentures to bind me, which simplified matters a lot. I decided to see the old boss first as he was much more reasonable than his son. I explained my situation, how after eighteen months I had been given no chance of learning anything really worthwhile, and wanted to give a week's notice. I don't suppose he had ever given me a thought before, but he was very nice and said that if I would stay on he would personally see that there would be an improvement. But I felt that I had 'burnt my boats', so to speak, and said I had definitely made up my mind to leave. He told his son of course, and all I got out of him was that I needn't work out my notice and could leave straightaway. I was glad rather than sorry, and actually summoned up enough courage to ask for my seven and six in lieu notice, and I got it!

So my first essay into working life ended, I'm afraid not too happily.

With a month to go before my new job started my brothers, who happened to be very busy, gave me a job temporarily. It was like a new life to me, to be doing something interesting and worthwhile. It was a pity, really, that I couldn't have kept on with woodworking there and then, but normally the little business my brothers ran would only support the two of them, so that was out of the question.

I suppose most everyone feels a bit apprehensive when starting a new job, and I was no exception. It was a complete change from anything I had ever seen. I started in the Bindery where the covers were made and attached to the books. I helped on a machine which made the covers, all new and interesting. The whole atmosphere was bright, well‑lit and warm, with as many girls working there as there were men and I didn't mind that. When Friday night came and I went home with thirty‑five shillings in my pocket, I felt like Lord Rothschild.

Mother soon got my financial affairs organised. She took a pound for my keep which probably made her better off than at any time since Father's accident. With my pound, her Post Office salary, and Father's pension she was comfortably off at last, and my word, she deserved it. She took five shillings to put by for my clothes, and I had the ten bob that remained for pocket money which in those days was quite a bit. I had started smoking, worse luck, but with no smoking allowed at work I only needed twenty a week, which cost the unbelievable sum of eight pence.

I had kept up my football since leaving school and played regularly for Ditchingham. Many of the friends I made at football worked at the printing works, and this helped me to settle down in my new job. When winter gave way to spring and summer I missed the open air a bit, but you can't have your cake and eat it, and I was never sorry I had changed jobs. The job never got monotonous as I would sometimes help on different machines, or do a bit of packing. The actual machine operators never got a change. It was better paid, but you were there for life on the same machine until you either left, retired or died. A few years ago I had the chance of going round the works again, and there were the same men doing the same job as when I was working there. The buildings and the machines had altered considerably, but the end product was the same.